


Wants

by MR01



Series: Mend [20]
Category: Gotham (TV), Pennyworth (TV 2019)
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Shameless Smut, The Delaney Club, Thomas Wayne is CIA, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28120311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MR01/pseuds/MR01
Summary: A bullet to the shoulder and a little too much alcohol make a bad recipe for the night.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth/Thomas Wayne
Series: Mend [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1424005
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

It was a long night and Alfie doesn't want to think about it. He's got someone else's blood on his clothes and knuckles.

He might have more than one bruised rib. It hurts something awful but it ain't broken.

Oh he would know if it were. Some whiskey should do the trick. Maybe a good-time girl then again maybe not.

He could also do with a chair or a bench, maybe a bed or an ice bath if he's honest.

Everything aches.

Still he powers through it. The day isn't over.

He's got a job to do. He may be injured but he ain't dead so that means bills.

And you can't be sad when you are at work pretty much because you're busy.

He makes his way to the Delaney Club. His spirit slightly lifting.

Music is booming and the party is in full swing. 

The plan had been to make a bee-line for the restroom. Freshen up.

Rinse his mouth. He tastes blood.

Then he'd go to the bar for a bottle, perhaps two.

He needs to drown out his sins.

Bury his secrets and regrets in the darkest recesses of his mind.

So he's got high hopes.

Damn, he really wants an ice wrap.

Before he can so much as wave hello to the showgirls he is yanked towards his office.

Fighting his own instinct to pull out his pistol or fight his aggressor until he looks up.

Registered who it is.

All American richboy Thomas Wayne. Still handsome as ever. He also notes that the bloke is bleeding from his shoulder.

Someone either nicked the poor bastard on accident or as a warning.

Because had they wanted to kill the man they would have done it. He's a walking target and literally anyone has motive.

He hopes that whatever this is didn't in some capacity also involve Miss Kane.

He quite likes Martha.

Alfred sincerely never thought he'd see this man again though.

Well at least not so soon. He cannot help but offer him a little smile.

It's good to know that he's still breathing.

* * *

"What? No hello then. No time for pleasantries. Where's that Western charm all the cinema flicks keep going on about."

Alfred's just teasing. Trying to ease the mood. He had almost completely forgotten how uptight and wired the man could be.

"I'm a New Yorker. And right sorry, this is urgent."

Under normal circumstances Alfred would be the one in control of the situation but as things are and with how tired he is he just lets it happen.

Following his lead and shutting the door.

Locking it once inside his office.

Peaking out the window a moment.

Then closing the blinds too for a small show of added privacy.

"So what's up. How are things." Thomas looks around the office. The place is neatly decorated.

It's new like the interior design. He wonders what happened or if Alfred and his war buddies actually bought the place.

"Not much. Just survivin'. Well, I'm pretty sure you didn't come through my part of town just on a social visit. As much as I appreciate the company."

He watches Thomas look taken aback.

Obviously not thinking he'd be questioned out right or so soon into seeing each other.

Alfred doesn't ease up. He does however motion to a chair.

Pouring himself a glass of whiskey and offering one to his current company.

"Spill it Wayne, why'd you come looking for me. And for your Yankees' sake what the hell happened to your shoulder."

Taking a sip of his drink helps ease the pain a bit. Maybe he's got some ibuprofen to deal with the headache coming on.

"I'm here on business and it hurts worse than it looks." Thomas smiles at him. Seems that the joke didn't go over too well then again he wasn't kidding.

Brief like he's asking him to please hold his judgment or at least not say it out loud.

"And I knew you'd be here or well I hoped."

* * *

"Take your coat off. Whoever patched you up did a shit job." 

Alfred watches the billionaire grimace in obvious discomfort. Still the man follows his command to the T.

Disapproval clear as day as he watches patches of dried up and fresh blood soak through the gauze and wrap.

"I'll ask Miss Kane to take some classes to sharpen her skills. If she doesn't offer to kill me first."

"I got this in an awkwardly compromising position with her."

Thomas clears his throat. Not totally sure what possessed him to be so open about his love life.

He hadn't said it to brag or lay a claim but in the end nothing really happened.

It just came out. And truthfully thanks to the sniper it ended before things could continue or get started.

But Alfred is unbuttoning his shirt and grabbing a bottle of whiskey.

Oh no. He knows where this is going. Would like nothing more than to avoid it again if at all possible.

"That's okay. Martha already cleaned me up. See. Oh. Dang. That uhh, it doesn't look great."

"You thinking it'll get infected. Like I should go see a physician because I can."

Both look at the still bleeding mess that is his arm and it's not at all the woman's fault that his blood hasn't completely clotted or scabbed over yet.

"No. Don't be a baby. I'll patch you up proper."

Thomas doesn't pull back. He trusts Alfred. With his life even. As he has before. But he can already tell.

This won't be fun. It might even suck in fact.

He tenses up. Watching Alfred leave the bottle next to him. Thomas's shirt now lying by his coat on the chair.

The man walks towards his desk. Taking long strides almost as if he's in a rush.

Concerned.

That could be because Thomas's blood is leaking onto his abdomen. Trailing down his hip.

Cool, he's got to get this before it spills onto the floor.

Awesome and disgusting. Just great.

He chooses to concentrate on Alfred. Focusing on him to relax. Telling himself that he'll be better off once this is done.

So he watches Alfred.

Pulling out some sort of small case. Ah, it's a first aide kit. Smart, convenient. Practical.

Sad now that he really thinks about it. He wonders just how many times the veteran has had to use this on himself or one of his friends.

By himself without anyone to help or assist.

Alfred starts talking again. Snapping Thomas out of his thoughts.

"Mhmm. You know me. Always happy to help in a noble cause. This'll sting. Try to relax."

He thinks it so easy to get lost in Alfred's eyes. They are gorgeous. Kind yet shadowed with pain, regrets.

He needs to snap out of it. Focus on what he's saying and not just how close they are in proximity.

Has he always been this fit? This handsome.

Thomas hadn't really noticed him until now.

Then again he'd been so preoccupied with the shit storm that was his life, work and the absolute dumpster fire of a relationship with his sister.

"You can have another drink, you know. I promise I won't run out. You've met my friends right?"

Alfred winks at him playfully. Trying to clam the man down, having him relax and he does.

And he regrets it as soon as he does.

"Alfie.."

The way Thomas had said his name. So breathless. Like he wants something to happen. 

It needlessly reminded him that he was happy once. Of Esme.

Alfred's body goes a little rigid. His voice firm. Words aligned. The message clear.

"You either call me Alfred or you can get out right now, Tom."

He doesn't know why he's so bothered by it but he kind of is.

Thomas looks away. Opening his mouth yet keeping quiet.

He powers through the the pain by looking around the office. Focusing on a spot by the ceiling lamps.

Alfred working in complete silence. Whatever he was feeling mostly dispersing.

The far off music helping distract him a little.

"All done. You'll be good as new in a week, two at most. Swear."


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

"When were you gonna tell me you were, are CIA?" 

Alfred lets go of Thomas's arm. Going through his coat rack and finding a spare shirt.

It'll be a tight fit but it's clean and here.

It will have to do.

"So you know.. huh. I didn't plan on it. Or to come back. To be fair. I wasn't gonna stay long. Officially we're neutral."

He hands the shirt over. Averting his gaze to grab himself another drink. Hearing him out.

"Plus, I'm Station Chief. I got a promotion because I do a mighty fine job apparently."

Thomas looks at the offered shirt with gratitude and trepidation. It's going to suck to put on and be even worse to take off.

By looking at it he can already tell. He sighs. Getting on with it. The material soft. The shirt itself quite form-fitting. Just shy of tight.

"Also how, uhh alrighty." He presses his lips together. When his superiors find out about this he will have quite the hay day.

"How the heck did you know. Who else knows? Your Mom, your old army buddies, Martha?"

Then he's reaching conclusions all on his own. And in hindsight he knows that they're probably baseless but he's speaking them out loud anyway.

Doing his best to look intimating like the leader of the USA spy-intelligence organization that he is.

"Are you a spy. Are you with the Raven society. The No-Names League. Have you been plotting to kill me all this time?"

But who is he kidding. Alfred can snap him like a twig.

Then pick him up and dust him off. A gentleman that can take a punch yet dish it back.

Alfred shrugs. Eyes narrowing slightly but he looks like he's in thought rather than judging him.

"I think I always knew. You don't look the type although I'm not really sure there is a look but it's just a vibe I reckon."

"The way you hold and present yourself. It was different than someone from the war. A heartless bastard or a fanatic whether that means fascist or otherwise."

Thomas smiles. Joking when he says. "I couldn't just be a bumbling American. A rich nondescript, unassuming man."

Alfred chuckles. Downing his drink in one go.

"You Wayne? Certainly not."


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

"Right then, you want.." Alfred stops midway.

All thoughts on what he was going to say next, freezing like a man who just realized he accidentally tripped up a wired bomb.

His attention caught as he watches Thomas fully relax into his chair. The man's eyes close and it looks like he's ready to call it a night.

Well Tom's obviously welcome to do that but in his own home.

Or anywhere else that isn't his office. Alfred isn't sure if he'll need the space to talk shop later on tonight.

Raising his voice a little louder than necessary he starts talking again. Packing up his supplies and cleaning up.

Intent of throwing the pricey looking, bloodied coat and torn shirt into the lit garbage can out back.

"A mighty fine cup of coffee. Maybe some tea. I think we've had enough alcohol."

He watches Thomas look around. A little startled. It looks like he had already started to doze off. Shame. 

But in the end it's a good thing. The man could use some quiet. Somewhere else.

The bar, this clubs no place for a man trying to catch a snooze.

The music's too loud.

"And you're looking like you will need something to do the trick. To keep you up, till you get home."

Thomas reaches out. The slightly shorter man tilting Alfred's chin up.

He's really going for it, cradling his face.

_When the hell did the man get so close?_

Why hasn't he considered that other people have a limited space called their personal bubble.

"I meant awake. Mr. Wayne. No innuendos here." 

But apparently his mouth's not the one doing the thinking. Then again neither is his brain.

He just acts.

Kissing Thomas is simultaneously the single best and worst decision of his life.

Best because oh dear he is a great man. With an even better tongue.

Then bad because this man is CIA, a spy for a different government.

One who attracts trouble and attention like a magnet.

Some odd folks claiming to be good company.

Yet Alfred is taking the lead here by unbuttoning his shirt.

All that time sort of wondering if they should stop here. But Tom's a grown man. He's not walking.

That's answer enough.

Careful not to reinjure the man in his attempt to get him undressed.

Mumbling stupid nothing's in the process.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

"On your knees then Thomas or do you just want to give me a hand?"

Alfred's hands hold the man in place. He's raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Whilst also implying that he should definitely get a move on. But he's also trying to make things clear.

"Because I won't be doing that for you tonight, maybe tomorrow. Perhaps in a year."

This is by no means a promise. Just speculation.

Wishful thinking or a stupid-bad idea.

That might not even happen in the first place. Alfie thinks he should have just kept quiet.

The words now belong to the universe. 

He and Mr. Wayne share a look in the silence that follows. 

One of realization after the fog and fuzziness of lust or wants, acts has cleared.

Thomas looks like he's just committed murder and he found out that it was the wrong target.

Like he got everything he ever wanted but isn't quite sure if he's happy or if him risking it all was even worth it.

The moves and effort, repercussions.

For a spilt second Alfred is considering taking pity on the man. Who is so clearly out of his element.

Not that he himself is really any more informed..to put it delicately.

Although he did see a lot in the war. But then again there's just things people don't talk or want to think about.

The thing is Alfie is ready to end things here were they left 'em.

Nothing's changed. 

Thomas licks his lips. Nervous energy rolling from him as the silence continues.

Wordless he gulps. Wishing he had something other than hard liquor to drink right about now.

His heart is steady because Alfred is still here. Unmoving and beautiful. Looking just as involved in this moment.

Thomas knows this is a novel situation.

Completely normal. To the public suddenly unnatural because they don't want to talk about it but obviously it happens.

But this feels like deja vu. Like he could see himself here with Alfred. Not like this and yet the sensation is nice, familiar.

"Right." Thomas looks at him. Pulling him closer. Kissing him. Attempting to make up his mind.

His fingers trailing through the slightly taller man's soft hair.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was originally going to have Alfred be the one to shoot Thomas to like make things spicy but I just rewatched the episode of the season finale basically and the dudes dad just died so I'll just not lmao.
> 
> For the story's sake he got shot again at a different time. The order is haywire here. Enjoy & thanks for reading.

* * *

Thomas maneuvers them towards the crowded desk. It's full of supplies and important looking, well organized paperwork.

Had this been his office he wouldn't have cared. His secretary and cleaning staff get paid well to mind their own.

Here though? It'd be a shame. He would have to stay and help clean up after. It's only fair.

He will probably get distracted and ask the man to dinner.

Or maybe to brunch somewhere outside of whatever the hell is going on in England.

London should still be fair though. A future parley spot if things change or run its course quickly.

"You with me, spy-man?" Alfred touched Thomas's face, caressing it. Wincing when he realized that yeah his hands still hurt.

It was a mistake. 

The blood on his hands having been wiped off with alcohol mostly after he'd cleaned up.

"I am" Thomas appreciates the gesture. He is careful as he undoes Alfie's pants. Pulling at his boxers, down.

"Impressive" The way the American said the word had Alfred's face a little warmer. 

He wants to touch it. Alfred's hard cock. He kisses him again. Fuck he can't seem to get enough of this boy.

Steeling his nerves Thomas pulls at Alfred's tie. Discarding the thing and just pushing the British man onto a chair. 

Moving to straddle him. It is much easier than he'd thought it'd be and he can't help but smile down at him.

"I know more than you think Pennyworth." Thomas runs his fingers down the man's chest looking entranced by what he sees. 

Some scars old and recent. Bruises, minor bleeding wounds. He must have had a productive day then. 

He tries to be careful. Placing his lips softly to most of the injuries he wants to pay attention to.

Not really sure if he'll get another chance to do this. Thomas thinks he could die tommorow. He almost did tonight. Again.

His job has its moments though. He is still in the game for a reason. After all is said and done. 

He begins to rut against him. Pulling at Alfred's cock then his own out of his underwear.

Jerking them off at a slow pace. His mouth needing to touch more of the man's skin.

Making little, stupid pleasure noises because he is so damn into the experience.


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

Thomas rests his head against Alfred's shoulder when the former SAS soldier places his hand above his own.

Rubbing their cocks together. Spitting on his hand.

Apologizing by kissing his hair then the back of his neck.

Saying he doesn't have lube in his office. That once he'd bought the joint it became a slightly more respectable place

Thomas doesn't mind because the beautiful, deviously skilled man is paying attention to his balls.

His pupils blown. Body a little sweaty. Warm.

His other hand holding Thomas up by the middle of his back.

"There you go baby, just like that. So precious for me."

Speeding up the process. Adding a little pressure. Making Thomas weak.

Whimper and then he's biting Alfie's shoulder to keep from crying out when he feels himself coming.

Alfred not far behind. Hands moving even quicker now as the ex-soldier encourages him. Thomas thinks he's drawn blood.

* * *

Once he's come down from his temporary bliss he carefully moves off.

Automatically missing Alfred's scent and heat. His face is as hot as the Sahara. Mind as clear as ice.

"You want to come back to my place? We can continue this in private."

Thomas wants to see how much things change when they are truly alone.

He wants to fuck Alfred all over his house.

Would offer to have it be the other way around as soon as they cross the elevator doors honestly.


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

Alfred contemplates the idea of taking the now senior financial forensic's analyst up on his proposal.

The implications of furthering their situation is a little scary.

Because he really wants to go.

But homosexuality is still definitely a crime not that they will get caught. The bloke's a hat-job, spy and he well is himself.

Together they can get out of anything.

Almost. 

He is pretty sure they both still like women so it's a bit of a gray area.

But it seems for all his thinking and low-key wishing. It's not meant to be because suddenly they can hear a commotion all too clear going on outside.

Something that Bazza and Dave Boy haven't broken up yet or are more than likely very much a part of probably.

Alfie rights himself. Cleaning up his mess as best he can.

Combing his hair back with a hand and drinking another shot of whiskey.

They should talk.

Not tonight though, he cannot handle a heart to heart.

"If I say rain check, will you believe me?" The words are spoken somewhat low as Alfred picks up his tie. Turns to face at the man. 

"Why not." Thomas smiles at him. Standing a little close. Unsure of what to do until Alfred kisses his cheek.

Alfie's hand lingering in his hair as he pulls away.

Looking a little shy himself. Almost smitten.

"I'll go check it out. Go to the bar. Grab something to drink. Enjoy the show."

Alfred steps out first. Pre-locking the door and leaving it ajar.

Leaving Thomas to do whatever he pleases while he's gone to take care of the scene playing out in his club.

* * *

When Alfred's walked a little closer to the area in question he sees a couple of things happening in real time.

Sandra and a few new girls, certainly not employees of his being harassed.

They are for the most part holding their own.

As he knew they would. Still that's just messed up.

Then he sees that Dave Boy has a guy in a choke hold and Bazza is holding another group off.

Which has Alfred ready to join in the fight immediately.

Hoping that this doesn't turn into an all-out brawl because that would be bad for business. He has a reputation to uphold.

Which rages on longer much than expected. His help escalating the situation.

The music and party still in full swing. He must be more exhausted than he thought.

His agility not as gracious at it usually is. Neither is his current reaction time. He spits out a little blood. Feeling minutely woozy.

Steadying himself as he leans against Dave Boy. Who seems to notice that something's off about him and is calling Bazza over.

Alfred tried to wave them off. The concern. It's always nice, appreciated but he really doesn't want it right now or to hear them fret.

He's taken more than one hit to the stomach tonight. Thinking it a shame he clearly won't be set to enjoy his morning jog comfortably.

The beautiful showgirls and other entertainers working their magic. Keeping the party alive as they knew he wanted.

Alfred barely has enough time to react.

Bracing for impact from some new bloke entering pretty late into their brawl.

He thinks he has lost enough blood tonight but fuck it, what's a little more.

Sort of taken aback yet glad at seeing Thomas coming up to catch the blow for him.

Have his back.

Oh where he's come from? Looking all cute.

Heroic. Alfred thinks he's staring just a tad too intensely at the man.

Blocking the attack instead of hitting them back.

Telling the man to go home or he wouldn't exactly like where he wakes up in the morning.

How.

Alfred thought he looked quite formidable.

Cool even but he's got bigger things to worry about. A little blood is dripping from Alfred's nose.

Sandra rushing up to him with an ice pack and an aspirin. A glass of water.

Telling him to tilt his head back. That being a hero is all fun and games till he gets hurt.

His automatic reply being. "Never you mind, love." But despite his injury he's doing his best to keep looking at her.

His friends, the people he knows who were involved to make sure they weren't too injured.


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

The bouncers and security guards coming up to check on them. There had apparently been another disturbance up by their area.

They take the perpetrators away. Asking if they need anything else from them before they walk.

Alfred following them. Asking for a status report.

"You still kicking ay, Bazza? Because I took quite the shiner." Dave Boy wraps an arm around his other best friend.

Alfie and this fearless man being his whole world. "Nothing a bottle of the good stuff can't help me with."

He walks with Dave Boy. Leading him to the bar. Pretty sure more than one of the dancers said they part-timed as a nurse in the war.

Thomas looks around. Placing his hands in his pockets.

He doesn't want to be standing around, waiting here in the middle of the dance floor. 

It's only when he hears the man speak again.

Saying the words. "You'll check up on Alfie, right. You know the stubborn lad doesn't like to bring attention to himself."

Does Thomas freeze up. Then he knows only to feel stupid.

Absolutely mortified when he sees Sandra standing real close behind him.

He wants a drink. To see what move Alfie makes next.

And to get out here already. He feels as if he is drawing too much attention.


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

When Alfred finds him again Thomas is drinking scotch. Talking animatedly with well more like at the bartender.

Because they look like they are mildly amused. Paying attention yet more focused on the job. What they are doing.

The man looking a little buzzed. Almost happy as he continues ranting about the wonders of modern medicine and how much he really, really loves Gotham.

Stating that as a teen he put together an amateur football team. How Patricia had pushed him to make friends and not be such a dweeb.

And having his father's stamp of approval hadn't hurt either. Proudly recalling that he was their captain.

Saying that if he's still thinking about it in the morning. Reminiscing. That he can make the Gotham Rogues a legit household name.

But then again he's also saying he so very much wants to eat a reuben sandwich with a cold soda.

Maybe take her to in Times Square. That it's a magical wonderland in Central Park this time of year.

The bartender laughing at his drunken charm. Briefly pondering the idea of traveling.

Dismissing it moments later. It had been a nice idea but she is comfortable with leaving it at just that.

Offering Alfie a drink. His usual and seeing that she's got other customers wanting to order.

"Thanks for stepping in. Next time fight your instincts and try not to. No one likes a hero."

"Plus I and I'm assuming your government don't want you to get hurt."

Alfred stares at his drink. Decidedly not thinking about how Thomas's hand on his arm feels like it both burns and holds him in place.

"You might be on to something but I make no promises Albert." Thomas wheezes as if he just made a stupid inside joke with the bloody bar ghost or something.

Reaching over and taking his drink from him. Saying that Alfie's a good man.

That he'd like to go home because it's getting late and that Alfred should really be the one to escort him.

His body language not at all subtle as he moves to get up. Probably thinking it's real cute as he drinks what's in the cup in one go.

The face he makes as is settles has Alfie awkwardly offering him a thumbs up.

With Thomas taking it proudly. Thinking he should take a beer to go.

Tipping the bartender in dollars because he honestly can't remember what he did with the small bundle of euros he had.

That it's no big deal though. Whoever found it certainly needs it more than him.


End file.
